But sometimes you just need to give something that says more than your words can express and so you want to give it as a token, something to be remembered, to signify an event, a moment or a simply a feeling. Dave often brought me things that to someone else might seem like the most trivial items imaginable. A smooth, white stone from the field, a worn down but still beautiful seashell from a beach trip I didn't get to go on, the first single wildflower early in spring, and once that piece of tree bark in the shape of something barely recognizable. Those are the things that touched my heart because I knew that at each of those moments, when he had first seen those things, he thought of me. That meant more than any fancy jewelry or expensive present ever could have.
Likewise, my gifts to him were usually simple and filled with special meaning. He kept them in what he called his "mojo bag", which was a small, buttersoft deerskin pouch that had been one of those simple gifts I had given him. He put it in the right corner of the top drawer of his bureau, easily accessible, but tucked away where it couldn't be lost. In other words, where it would be safe.
After he died, it took me a while to be able to look inside of that bag, although I held it in my hand often and felt the objects inside, remembering when I had given him each one. The perfect tiny arrowhead I had spied sticking out of a dirt clod after he had plowed up a new garden plot. A tiny egg of malachite, the guardian stone of travelers. A dented, pitted marble I had found in an old cupboard in his grandparent's (long deceased) house, one that he swore was his when he was a kid. The bag is filled with things like those.
And, of course, there is The Agate.
We lived on the Oregon coast for a while and we spent a lot of time on the beach and along the river banks. One of the favorite local activities was looking for agates, beautiful smooth, translucent stones that come in all colors. I was probably the most frustrated agate hunter on the coast because after doggedly looking for nearly two years, I had continued to come up empty handed. Even our friends' six year old ran rings around me when it came to finding these elusive beauties, so I finally gave up trying to find even one.
One chilly fall morning, Dave and I were walking along a stretch of beach, near the mouth of the river we lived beside. We were on the beach, walking toward the jetty, where the river rushed into the ocean. We loved walking there because the clash of the water from the river and the ocean waves made a spectacular display and we could watch it while we walked that stretch of beach.
That morning, I had sand in my shoes and had taken them off to walk. The sand was warm and it felt good to have my toes in the sand. I remember standing there on that misty beach, nestled up close to Dave and him with his arms encircling me, hugging me close, just holding on to each other. I remember how he smelled, his warmth, how he felt, how I felt. I remember that his sweater scratched my cheek but I didn't want to break the spell of that moment, so I didn't move. I could hear his strong, steady heartbeat and I remember thinking that I wished that perfect moment could last forever. I don't think I was ever happier than the days we spent on that beach.
While we stood there, I dug my toes into the sand and hit something hard. I reached down and dug through the sand and pulled out the most perfect, nearly round agate I had ever seen. It was bigger than many of the agates I had seen other people find and I took it in my hand and washed the sand off in a little rivulet of water. When I opened my hand and we looked closer, there in the exact center of the agate was a hole, all the way through the stone. Inside that tiny chasm was another miniscule round agate, cached inside the bigger stone, worn into shape over how many years, within the larger stone. Dave and I looked at it in amazement.
When we got back home that morning, I immediately made the agate into a necklace for Dave. That stone carried so much meaning because I had found it in that perfect moment. For us it symbolized patience and protection, the heart within and the endurance of love. Dave said it was the best gift he had ever been given and he wore it for many years. Eventually, it made its way into the mojo bag, with his other treasures.
I wore The Agate to Dave's memorial service on a simple strand of twine, close to my heart, just like he wore it for so long.
If you look very closely, you can see that Dave is wearing "The Agate" around his neck.
You can click on the pic to see it full size, if you like.
You can click on the pic to see it full size, if you like.
